


Adapted For The Stage, Now With More Explosions

by Semiotaxonomy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Feelings, Friendship, Fun, Gen, Post true pacifist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:28:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semiotaxonomy/pseuds/Semiotaxonomy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people are determined to take on the world no matter how big it turns out to be. The stuff closer to home can be harder, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adapted For The Stage, Now With More Explosions

Napstablook put their face through the wall of their cousin's trailer, which sounded like the start of a spook-country fusion effort. Mettaton's trailer was more like a palace, though. They always felt like they were going to interrupt something, phasing into the middle of that decadence -- what, they had no idea, but something -- but 'if you've got a ghost in your band,' MTT had said, 'why not have fun with it?' He always seemed to be expecting them, somehow, and they spent more time here than in their own bare-bones quarters.

In this case he was busy thumbing through a stack of DVDs, humming the tune to his future smash hit _Auto-Matica_ , video debuting in December; he only glanced up with an overly effusive wave and some cooing.

"chris and igorg said we're clear for a couple hours," Napstablook said. "shyren got another call from her sister, though... she said to start without her and she'll join in a bit. is that okay...?"

"Mmm, it's _disappointing_ , but she's being so sweet to humor me at all. As are you! As long as she plays along on stage, of course, we'll get by." Mettaton delicately set the DVDs on his gold-edged coffee table, then, in a movement too fast for the ghostly eye, took one from the middle without upsetting the tower. He frowned at it. His humanoid body was poised and photogenic in every little unimportant action, even in private.

Napstablook drifted over to the snail tank to say hi, their own frown probably less flattering. "oh... you really got a lot..."

"It wouldn't do to have me handle something so unsavory in person, so I allowed some of our lovely groupies to help. In fact, most of the donations came from a single person. I've told security to keep an eye on that one." He brightened. "Oh! But look at this, Blooky, it turns out there's actually an official traditional snack, so I ordered some made with monster ingredients! Aren't they cute?"

Mettaton's enthusiasm, even when slightly forced, was infectious. Napstablook expressed this by eyeing both the little pink sticks and the chosen DVD doubtfully. "do you want to start right now? ...oh... i can't even understand the title............"

"Me neither! But I _can_ see that gorgeous human on the cover. Any show that incorporates posing like that can't be... too bad." Mettaton's free hand looped around to poke at the air that roughly translated to Napstablook's right cheek. "I'm ready whenever you are, darling!"

It had been some time since Napstablook was last cajoled into watching TV with Mettaton, and much longer since they'd seen anything that didn't also _star_ Mettaton. In a lot of ways this was as familiar as the old memories. Despite all the time and changes, he was still easier to talk to than anyone, and they thought he still spoke to them a little differently too. There was nobody else they would've toured across the vast human realm for -- of course, nobody else would have asked them to, and nobody else could be quite as hard to say no to.

Some things were also very, very different now. Case in point: Napstablook took their cue and obediently became a little more tangible so the metal arms could coil around them. Perched in a thickly plush pink loveseat, Mettaton clutched them to his chest the way human girls on TV would hold teddy bears, if their arms were also four feet long and boneless. Quite soon the ghost would lose their focus and start phasing into said arms, but MTT was undeterrable. 'My systems can always use a little more cooling!' he had said.

So they watched some anime.

Mettaton's enthusiasm was faltering by the end of the first episode, when Shyren's hesitant knock arrived at the door, but he was resolute; he didn't move at all while Napstablook flowed out to let her in. Shyren had a hopeful sort of semi-smile on her face and a can of that human food she liked barely clinging to one fin. She whispered almost audibly, which was a big improvement for her: something like, "(What did I miss?)"

Napstablook dutifully resumed their station while she swam into the air over the loveseat. "i think... a human punch artist is going to punch a human vampire......?" It made about as much sense as any of the soaps they'd watched back in the day.

"It's not TOO bad," Mettaton said loudly to himself.

"(That poor vampire,)" Shyren probably said. "(Would you like some flakes?)"

Napstablook couldn't eat them anyway, but Mettaton took a few for the break from Monster Pocky and hit Play. The human punch artist punched a giant grasshopper.

Spending weeks on the road was a tough life. Or, at least, Napstablook didn't take to it the way their cousin apparently did. If nothing more, there were all-new inconveniences to ghosthood that neither of them had foreseen -- convoys driving off and leaving them asleep in midair, for instance -- but that didn't cover the stress and exhaustion and awkwardness and the lack of anything familiar to grab onto. Except Mettaton himself, of course. They were looking forward to ending the tour and never, ever doing this again.

 _He_ was looking forward to the end of the tour because their last stop was their first return to the Mt. Ebbott area, and with it an audience of familiar faces. It would be the first show Frisk caught since the time they'd popped up on the other side of the country for what they claimed were important diplomatic reasons; the first for _their_ circle of V-VIP friends since the tour had started; the first show for monster royalty since the meaning of monster royalty had changed; the first time Dr. Alphys actually left her home to see Mettaton perform live in...

...

... a very long time. He'd made sure. No one in that group exactly needed the star's invite for backstage access, not when it included the king, queen and ambassador, but he'd made certain to give it anyway, because she wouldn't pursue it herself.

Napstablook recognized Mettaton's excitement. It was the same he'd had when recruiting them.

After the second episode of human punch artist, they switched to the start of some surreal, abstract story about a girl uncovering her jazz academy's enigmatic secret; from there, to a dramatic show about the high-octane world of baking cakes. By the end of that one, Mettaton's hand on the controls had slowed substantially. He pouted down at the cage of his arms and said, slightly staticky with strain, "Are _you two_ getting any inspiration?"

How were you supposed to tell? Napstablook twisted to look in turn at Shyren, who seemed to have enjoyed the show the most. She was humming to herself with a few words thrown in softly: something like, "(Haruka naru daichi ni ryoute hirogete~)"

It had a certain sound to it, if that counted as inspiration. "i think... we can probably come up with something"

 

* * *

 

Strictly speaking, MTT had established himself in the human world as a singer, but he saw himself as something much more. Out here he no longer had an elite resort, a private broadcasting studio, and a line of wearable blankets in his image, but the talent for pulling success out of nowhere was purely something he carried within. It didn't need to be the same kind of success. Everything he ever did was an act, and every act was unique.

Over the course of the tour he'd gone through countless monologues, a fleet of costumers, the occasional local talent graciously allowed to share his stage. He went onto TV whenever it'd have him; he'd made a spur-of-the-moment understudy into somebody's musical theater once. Mettaton's true art, before anything else, was sheer spectacle. The flashiness didn't exactly agree with Napstablook, or Shyren for that matter, but it actually made being onstage easier. After all, no matter how packed the arena, every eye was sure to be on _him_.

The arena wasn't packed, or so they had all been told. Mettaton's shows didn't sell out the way they would have underground; there was a sizeable audience that would come for the novelty of a monster-robot act no matter what it was, and a sizeable audience that would stay away for the same reason. It still looked like a ridiculous number of people to a humble farmghost, though. Too vast anyway to make out anyone they knew, which was for the best as far as their much-abused nerves were concerned.

He waited in a posture that wouldn't have been possible without hydraulics, a sculpted silhouette swathed in magenta stage lights and air that had somehow been infused with glitter. His voice seemed to come from everywhere except him. "My dears, this night is a special night. I'm _so_ delighted, no, _honored_ to have all of you darlings join me, I truly am. Oh, I may be the beautiful star your hearts are wishing for. You may be here to see me. But I'm here for every one of you, and never forget it. Tonight's show is dedicated to all of my fans -- all of my supporters -- yes, all of my friends. Without you, I never could be who I am right now. _You know who you are._ "

A leg lowered. Several more lights fired up. The cue was something ineffable known only to him. "Minna, iku zo!"

Afterwards, Shyren went with her sister to have an awkward time with her brother-in-abomination-law, and Napstablook went with their cousin to meet his guests of honor. They found Gardener King Asgore Dreemurr chatting up a security leopard about something involving sword's and/or gun's. Frisk clung to one big goat hand with a look of saintly forebearance, and behind them, the tall skeleton Papyrus was lit up by a starstruck grin and an overly neon outfit. These were three of the biggest reasons Mettaton still kept his shows carefully family-friendly. (Of course, Napstablook themself was also on that list.)

"MY BROTHER WENT WITH THE QUEEN TO SAVE THE REST OF US FROM HAVING TO HEAR THEM TALK!" Papyrus explained.

"They went to check out the merchandise tables," said Frisk softly. They always spoke softly; rather than timidity, it seemed more like they trusted that others would try to listen. A post-concert crowd wasn't the greatest place for that, but everyone got by, as evidenced by Asgore's expression continuing to deteriorate.

"SURE, WHEN _I_ WANT TO BUY A LIMITED-EDITION LILAC-SCENTED GOLD HOLOGRAM LIFE-SIZED MTT POSTER, SUDDENLY IT'S TACKY!!"

Mettaton practically purred. Things with his face on them were one of his favorite topics. "Why, darling, you don't need to languish in line for that! I'll have one at your door tomorrow, signed."

"WOWIE!!! I FEEL LIKE A SHRILLY SCREAMING SCHOOLGIRL ALL OVER AGAIN!!! IT'S TOO BAD UNDYNE COULDN'T MAKE IT. I THINK TONIGHT MIGHT HAVE FINALLY CONVINCED HER YOU'RE NOT TERRIBLE!!"

"Well." Slightly less purry. "There's no use _forcing_ someone to try and have a little fun for once. You can lead a fish to glamour, but you can't make it fabulous, yes?"

Papyrus clattered his hands together. "I ABSOLUTELY AGREE!!! IF DOING HAPPY THINGS DOESN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY, YOU JUST HAVE TO FIND THE NEXT BEST THING TO DO. AND APPARENTLY THAT'S SITTING AT HOME IN YOUR PAJAMAS WATCHING CARTOONS? THAT'S EXACTLY WHY SHE STAYED HOME WITH ALPHYS!!"

Mettaton's head swiveled like a turret being aimed. "Is that right?" he said in what was now not remotely a purr, more of an electronic rumble.

Frisk, who had already detached themself from the king and quietly wandered closer at some point, said, "I don't think she was feeling well... They decided to make it a night in."

"AND AS ALPHYS'S SELF-ESTEEM COACH, I COULDN'T BE MORE PROUD!! I'VE BEEN TELLING HER ALL ALONG THAT SHE NEEDS TO EMBRACE THE PERSON SHE IS. IF THAT PERSON IS A PANICKY SHUT-IN, THEN THAT'S WHO GETS THE HUGS!!!!! SHE HAS FRIENDS WHO LIKE HER THAT WAY, AND A COOL GIRLFRIEND WHO'LL SHOVE FURNITURE IN FRONT OF THE DOOR FOR HER!"

Mettaton smiled. "That sounds absolutely lovely. Why, I'm sure the rest of us will end up begging those two lucky ladies to spare us the gory details of their evening! As for the rest of us, I have to say I'm beginning to feel a bit _drained_ , if you understand. It's been a very big night! Why don't I catch up with you beauties later?"

"I DON'T GET IT," Papyrus said.

"He has batteries," Frisk said.

"Is he leaving? Golly, I didn't even get to say hi!" Asgore said, having finally finished with the guard just as Mettaton swept away.

As for Napstablook, even they had nearly forgotten they were in this scene. They hadn't said a word after the greetings. They really didn't know what they should be doing right now, and they were very tired and starting to cry harder. Frisk, though, circled around and waved a hand through them. Not that that actually got Napstablook's attention, but it was gotten anyway.

Frisk spoke softly, and no one else heard them say, "Has he ever needed to rest right after a show?"

Napstablook vanished.

They shouldn't have needed Frisk to point it out; didn't they know him better than anyone? If that was still true, the meaning of it had changed along with everything else. Back in the day, when things were hard, he'd always had a positivity that Napstablook couldn't quite grasp, but he didn't _hide_ it.

Mettaton, minus costuming, paint job and several pieces of outermost chassis, was at the snail tank, letting old Bessie inspect his fingertips. (She didn't really recognize him now, but he'd always been her favorite.) There was a carton of ice cream on the coffee table and the TV was struggling to channel some talk show; human ice cream, which meant he couldn't eat much, and a human show, which meant this too didn't star him. Napstablook felt yet again that they were intruding on something way over their head.

He didn't seem to be expecting them, but his momentary surprise wasn't an unhappy sort, and his subsequent smile gentler than usual. "Oh, sweetheart, you didn't need to come looking after me. Is everything all right? Did everyone enjoy the show?"

"they seemed like they had fun..." Napstablook found themself saying, helplessly.

Mettaton extracted himself from the snail tank while he sent his other hand to poke at the air by Napstablook's face. They took their cue obediently. He positioned himself across the loveseat so they were both looking up at the ceiling. "Blooky," he said, "I'm not used to this."

"to what......?" The TV audience laughed.

"To -- well! It's not as if it was a terrible disaster. Granted, some of my fans might be wondering about my taste and vice versa, but if I can't pull off a little nerdy indulgence, who could? I at least make it look _beautiful_. No, never mind, that's not the point, of course." He paused for long seconds, and ever so faintly, Napstablook could hear the computery whir in his chest. "You know, I don't think I could say this to anyone else, but I -- I was off the mark."

"oh... no, mettaton, it was a really nice idea. you couldn't have known..."

"Darling, I know Alphys. Sweetiebones was right, she doesn't enjoy a public commotion the way I do. She's a little more like you, you know. She'll be happier watching some 240p bootleg in a day or two." Mettaton lifted them, turned them to face him; they had to carefully guide their tears away from his hair. " _Will_ that still make her happy? How would you feel if it were you, Blooky?"

They bit their vague blob lip, and felt their nonexistant stomach sink, and weighed the urge to just disappear from this conversation too. But if there was anyone they could avoid pulling that on, it had to be him. Eventually, Napstablook said, "even worse"

Mettaton gave a thick sigh with two fans behind it, pulled them in close again, and propped himself up, brisk and businesslike. The ice cream melted mostly uneaten, and the TV got worse and worse.

**Author's Note:**

> I would very much like to continue this, but I have a lot of work to do sorting out and solidifying ideas first. It may not ever happen. In the event that I don't write more, sorry for leaving it on this note... nah you know you love it.


End file.
